Law of Motion
by CelticbeLLs12
Summary: Imagine if Ziva and Tony knew each other as children, before NCIS? These are 5 scenes where their lives could have crossed and, at some moment, a friendship developed. Non-compliant with canon. Rated T for safety.
1. 5 and 6

Disclaimer: I do no own the NCIS TV series or any of the characters.

Summary:

Imagine if Ziva and Tony knew each other as children, before NCIS? I give you 5 scenes where their lives could have crossed and, at some moment, a friendship developed. Deliberate gaps of time with room for thought. Non-compliant with canon. Ziva and Tony depicted at ages 5&6, 9&10, 14&15, 17&18, 32&33. Rated T for safety.

A/N- Scene titles correspond with Ziva and Tony's ages. The other scenes will come quickly. Expect them in the next few days because I want to get this out before my muse is gone. Please review :)

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**5 and 6**

It was a simple matter of physics that first brought _him_ to meet _her_.

Newton's First Law of Motion, to be exact. Although, six year old, Anthony DiNozzo, would describe it as, "Big red ball rolling down bigger hill".

Propelled by gravity, an unusually strong wind for April, and forces unseen, Anthony DiNozzo sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him. He was finally gaining on it when a girl rushed in front of him, _out of nowhere, _and stopped the ball with her foot. Startled, Anthony jumped back.

"Hey!" Was all he could say as he caught his breath.

The girl smiled, teasingly, passing the ball back-and-forth between her feet, "Is this yours?"

"Give it back!" Anthony said, energy returned, as he reached out for it.

"Relax," she said, still smiling as she kicked it back to him. "I was only looking at it."

But Tony didn't seem to believe her. He hugged the ball protectively and huffed, "Who are you?"

The girl dropped her grin and pushed russet curls out of her face, "Ziva David, my family just moved in." She extended a hand, but dropped it when the boy stared at it, dimly.

"I'm Anthony," He said, wiping his face. Ziva snorted, which caused him to frown.

"My dad's name is Anthony." He said, his voice rising in tenor. However, the news of its origin didn't deter her. She laughed, once again.

"That is much worse."

Anthony balled his hands into fists, annoyed by this girl. He did not see what was funny. He wanted to say something back, but he couldn't think of anything except—

"You're just, just _stupid_!"

He expected her to cry, to run away after being called a_ bad _word_._ But Ziva just stood there, looking infuriatingly— unaffected.

"Do you have siblings?" She suddenly asked. The off-beat question threw him.

"No, why?"

Ziva shrugged as only a 3-foot-something-inches tall little girl could.

"I thought so."

Anthony's eyes widened in fear.

"_Can you read my mind?" _

Ziva shook her head. "It is just the way you talk. You do not have practice in standing up to others."

Anthony forehead creased, failing to understand what she had said.

"I think you have _too much _practice," he managed. The strange girl's eyes narrowed and Anthony frowned again.

Then there was a man calling from the house they stood in front of. Anthony hadn't really paid attention to it until now. He had been too occupied with his ball and the _stupid _girl in front of him to notice how far down the street he had ended up.

"Ziva," The man said; his voice was dark and rich like Anthony Senior's imported cigars. It made Anthony snap his head to attention. Ziva did as well.

"Tell your friend to go home. It is time for dinner."

"Yes, Abba." Ziva responded and the man turned back inside, not waiting for her to follow. Ziva turned back to Anthony, their previous dispute fading away, as often happens when grown-ups interrupt.

"I am starting in the kindergarten next week," she told him, wondering if he was going to school.

"You're in kindergarten? I'm in first grade!" He said proud and glad to have won something.

Ziva pouted and Anthony laughed at her.

"What school do you go to?"

"D.C. Preparatory."

"Ziva." The man called from the stairs.

Ziva turned sharply, having been lost in conversation, "I have to go, Tony."

"Anthony." He corrected her.

"Right, _shalom_." She said and left, quickly running up the walkway and stairs to her home, sparing him a glance before vanishing inside her house.

"Hey! What did you call me?" He yelled at the house, but no one reappeared.

Anthony stood there for a moment, watching as the screen door bounced several times before shutting completely. Another breeze blew and he did not notice until his ball broke free from his arms and bowled down the sloping street. "Not again!" he thought as he leapt up, chasing after it.


	2. 9 and 10

**9 and 10**

A girl outfitted in jade and brown clung to the bulbous trunk of a mulberry tree. At several feet from the ground she was nearly imperceptible amid the canopy.

Her wild hair, which had been showered with leaves and pollen from the upward journey, sailed without restraint. The girl was stealthy, climbing for several moments before deciding she was hidden from hawkeyed passerby who might spot the nine year old in a tree. She was confident of her position until she saw her neighbor, Anthony, starting his ascent on the low branches. Ziva rolled her eyes as she watched Anthony, as graceless as a river troll, lumber around the, well, _lumber_.

Anthony maneuvered up the tree, following Ziva's path and joined her branch in mere moments. Regardless of his method, he was quick.

"I'm changing my name," was the first thing he said.

Ziva raised her eyebrows, sitting back, "What brought this on?"

She had been trying to get Anthony to change his name for years, but he had never done it.

Anthony raised his hand up to comb his hair. "It's funny actually. We were signing our names in cursive today. And that's when I realized my initials spell A.D.D."

Ziva snorted.

Anthony ignored her, opting to stare ahead, to trees beyond their tree, "Do you think my parents are trying to tell me something?"

"What, _Anthony?_ That you have an attention deficit?" Ziva teased.

"No," he shook his head, "That I should be a math professor."

Ziva laughed heartily again, like friends do with an inside joke.

Anthony stuck out his hand, in mock introduction, "Tony DiNozzo."

She shook his hand tightly, "Ziva David."

"That's a strange name," Tony said, removing his hand and massaging it, "Where are you from? Not Israel?" Tony flinched away as Ziva's fist came at him.

They had learned early on that family was a touchy subject for both of them. But if Ziva thought it would bring a mutual peace between them, she was mistaken. Tony made it a business for incessant button-pushing.

"Missed me!" He lowered the arms that protected his head.

"Next time, I will not."

But they were both grinning at each other.

"You are mellow-bellied, Tony." Ziva whittling off bark with her finger nails.

"The term is '_yellow_-bellied'." Tony corrected. "And I am not a coward. I just know not to get into a fight with you."

"Because we know who would lose."

"No, because _we _know what happened the last time."

Ziva's eyes widened at the memory of a child's eighth birthday party. Red balloons, sugar sweet icing and pony rides. Sobbing children.

"The falling piñata was not my fault." Ziva said quickly.

"Tell that to my goldfish." Tony muttered.

Ziva hid a smile and sat back against the tree, watching schoolchildren walk home. She recognized some as her classmates from Eagle Academy.

"That's Paul Brian Johnson," Tony pointed to a slight boy in a red shirt from his school, D.C. Prep.

"PB & J? The guy who stole your lunch money?"

"We were going to fight Tuesday afternoon, but Dad pulled up before we could get started." Tony rubbed his eyes. Anthony senior coming to the rescue— he didn't know whether to be angry or grateful.

They watched the children walk, run, and skip home until the street was vacant and the sun was westward.

"How long do you think we could stay up here," Tony asked quietly.

She was thoughtful for a minute, "We have some cover from sun and rain. But no food or drink. A few days, maybe."

Tony was only wondering how long they would stay that _day_, before their families noticed them gone. But since she opened that door, he walked right in.

At the expression on his face, Ziva looked at him cautiously.

"It could be like 'Survivor'. We could build a shelter out of sticks and leaves, use strands of hair to bind it…"

Tony looked around for resources.

"We are in a tree, Tony. What do you suggest, _a bird's nest?_"

Tony smiled, not answering, "Do you have your knife with you?"

Ziva pulled back her hair into a loose bun, so it was out of his reach, before handing the knife to him.

Tony stood up with his back against the tree and instructed Ziva to hold his legs. She did so with a good-natured eye roll. When he acted out these film fantasies, it was usually amusing.

"We could collect rain water in hollowed wood. We could eat mulberries."

Tony cut down a tender branch of the pinky red berries. He ripped off a handful and piled them on the thick branch they sat on.

"Bon appétit." Tony said as he placed one in his mouth.

"Merci."

No sooner had the word left her lips, than the mulberry exited Tony's mouth.

He spat out the offending fruit, wiping away the bitter grit and seed.

Unalarmed, Ziva sagely squeezed a mulberry between two fingers and announced,

"They are under ripe."

"No kidding!" Tony burst, raking fingers over tongue in a useless, but comical fashion.

Ziva turned away from his plight, "We should have known. Mulberries ripen when they are dark purple."

"How long?"

"A few weeks." Although, she had no clue. But, it was more than a few days. Tony groaned at his foiled plans.

"So much for 'Survivor'." She remarked.

"We can still eat bark." He reminded her.

Ziva looked at her watch, mindful of the hour. Her father would be home soon, and Tony's father, too.

"If I ever get lost in the forest, Tony, I hope I am not with you."

"Why?" Tony said to humor her.

"Because we will be dead by the second day." Ziva smiled.

"And if you are alone? You will be dead by the first." He grinned.

Ziva sighed. If Tony knew about her training, he would think otherwise. Perhaps, they would not even be sitting in this tree, at all, if he knew.

A/N- Much thanks to those who have reviewed so far. Keep them coming ;)


	3. 14 and 15

**14 and 15**

Fifteen year old Tony DiNozzo interlaced his fingers around the football, testing the air pressure, alleviating his nerves.

Ziva had told him, just two days ago, that she was leaving to attend a high school in Israel. She would be doing part of her education there and return for her senior year in D.C., as ordered by her father, before she would run off again to _God knows where. _

After knowing Ziva for nearly a decade, Tony had learned important, few things about her family. For one, there were some things, _he just couldn't ask_, regardless of how much he wanted to know. Another thing, Ziva was pushed _hard, _training with rifles and hand-to-hand combat, by her father and a super-secret-spy organization. But most importantly, he knew that Ziva was a good friend. He wasn't companions with other girls and no other friendship had lasted this long. They were symbiotic. But it was almost something taboo— as if thinking about it would push it to collapse.

Tony rang the bell and stepped back quickly as the door swung open to reveal Ziva's father, Eli. The man was looking gruffer and more obdurate, which put Tony off-guard.

"Is Ziva here?" Tony squeaked, voice cracking from immature vocal chords. He cleared his throat, "I know that she's leaving in a few days and I wanted to give her this."

Tony produced the football, a gift for Ziva to remember home. Tony remembered the stilled nights when they both were buzzed from a busy school day, but unable to fall asleep. They would meet at the old park and toss a crappy, neglected football around. Funny, how it didn't seem like crap now.

Eli silently studied him and the old football before accepting the latter, but not letting Tony inside.

"She is ill today and is not up to visitors," Eli said, austerely.

Against his better judgment, Tony stepped forward. He wanted to see her before she left.

"Sir, I promised that I would— _see her off_." He settled for that because he could not vocalize the words. Not for him.

Eli blew wispy air through his nose, pretending to think about it. However, Tony could see the answer in his eyes. Hanging out with Ziva had given him insight into reading people, how honesty rested in a person's eyes or feet.

"I am sorry, come back tomorrow. I will make sure Ziva is up to say farewell."

Tony gulped a smart retort, but acquiesced and Eli closed the door.

Eli stood in the doorway of his eldest daughter's room. Tali sat on a wooden footstool by her sister's bed, reading a school poem aloud. Her voice was small and sweet like plums and spun like a spider weaving a web. A high, quick, and airy song.

"Tali, go set the table for dinner," Eli said.

Tali nodded and left the bedroom, stopping only when her father kissed the mossy crown of her head.

"Abba?" Ziva asked, sitting up, now that they were alone.

"Come here, my child." Eli said. His voice was soft.

Ziva did as she was instructed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Slowly. After being bed-ridden for two days with the flu, she was unsure her legs would hold on the first step. Eli watched as his daughter stood, with brief dizziness, and crossed the room.

Eli reached out for her, holding her face in both his hands. The room tilted, but he held Ziva, strongly.

He released her and measured her heart rate, "How do you feel?"

"Fine." She said, simply. Eli chuckled at her poor lie and her poorer veneer.

"Be strong, Ziva. You will face far worse someday. Imprisonment, beatings, starvation, torture—we do not live in a happy world."

Ziva nodded. She knew of the danger; that was why she trained.

"Come, your fever is gone. I want Tali to help prepare the meal tonight."

Ziva nodded and led her father out of the room, hoping the stress did not show. An eight year old was precarious in the kitchen, even one who was familiar with knives. Perhaps, more so.

"Tony was here?" Ziva asked, suddenly seeing a beat-up football sitting on an end table in the living. She recognized it from their nighttime catching games.

Following her sight, Eli nodded, "Briefly. He will be back tomorrow."

"I will meet him." Ziva said, removing a rice jar of from the cupboard.

She never thought she would have a friend with her family and secrets. And now she knew it could be ending. Mossad operatives did not live regular lives and they did not have friends. She knew it was not permanent, it never could be, and yet…

She turned back to her father for more information on Tony's visit. But he did not say more and Ziva did not expect him to.

Tali entered the kitchen and hugged Ziva around the middle. Ziva tousled her sister's dark locks.

"Chicken or lamb?" Ziva asked her father.

Her father did not look from his causal position in the living room, "Lamb."

Ziva pulled the poor beast out of butcher paper, its body concaved and bloody. She never had the stomach for lamb, or any meat, really. If it were her decision, she would be vegan like her cousin. There were many decisions she wished to make in her life, if she had the _authority_ to make them. She had always accepted the consequences of her father's high position. But now she wondered.

How long they had been playing the roles of Abraham and Isaac?

A/N- That last part is referencing Genesis 22. Thanks for the reviews/favs/follows! :)


	4. 17 and 18

**17 and 18**

A massive heat wave was breaking through D.C. With widespread power outages, many stores were closed, however, one local diner was not.

Seventeen year old Ziva stepped into the diner, relishing in the starched gingham curtains and pops of cooking grease. The restaurant had once been a hang-out place for her and friends. After school, they would walk there, share a basket of chips and work through their homework assignments.

As she waited for food, she became distracted with a young couple, making out in the seats diagonally across from her. They were being rather physical for a public place.

It was like watching a segment on _Animal Planet. _They were grunting and groping. The boy traced wet kisses around the base of the girl's neck, who laughed raucously like a hyena. The girl's long blonde hair whipped around, cascading over her shoulders and the boy's face. It was when they pulled back for a moment of air that Ziva saw them.

"_Oy gevault_," She breathed.

The boy's face immediately snapped in her direction, in surprise and recognition. Ziva mentally cursed at her own carelessness. He was about to speak when Ziva launched herself out of her seat and brought her hand across his face, stopping him.

Tony fell back on the hard plastic seat, left cheek stinging. His girlfriend, Maxine, screamed at the attack. A moment ago, Tony saw someone he hadn't seen in years. And less than a second later, he was being assaulted and he hadn't even said _anything _offensive.

The girl lifted Tony up by the front of his shirt, predatorily. She brushed jealous eyes over his girlfriend. People were staring at them, but she paid them no heed.

"Do you want me?" Her voice, taking on a different note, entirely. It made his skin crawl. "Because I want you."

She blew on his ear and he flinched. She used this moment of vulnerability to pull him up to his feet and drag him toward the restrooms.

Tony's eyes widened. A few bystanders wolf-whistled and his girlfriend looked on, speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl pulled him into a unisex bathroom.

As soon as the door locked behind them, things got stranger.

She separated herself from Tony and meticulously felt along the walls, checking for something. Then, she set her cell phone on the ground and blasted rock music near the door.

Her demeanor completely changed from crazed and lustful to quiet and methodical. All signs of the previous episode had gone and what stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, looked like the girl her used to know. Although she was taller and more terrifying.

Finally, Tony was able to speak, "Ziva! What the hell was that for? What's going on?"

Ziva whirled around, "Keep your voice down." The music would only protect so much from eavesdroppers.

Tony looked at her, incredulously, "You just slapped me and dragged me into a bathroom."

"It is good to see you, too, Tony."

"Ziva," Tony persisted, not about to be diverted. "Give me an explanation, or I'm leaving right now."

Ziva nodded, stiffly. She gestured to the only available seat and he rolled his eyes before lowering the cover on the toilet and sitting down on the edge.

"I am being followed," She said, leaning against the wall opposite him. "By someone who knows my face, but not my name." She neglected to say why a teenager was being followed by armed men, but there had to be a good reason.

"I am sorry. I had to stop you before revealed me, however, I believe the slap was warranted. "

Tony looked at Ziva, but she was looking at the cracked tile, intently. One time, they had joked around about dating each other. But they were never serious.

"We were just kissing."

She laughed without humor, "No, you were roleplaying a couple of dementoids, sucking each other's souls through your mouths."

"_Dementors_, Uncle Vernon." He said, glad to see she was keeping up with the culture.

"Whatever," Though her expression softened at his correction. "I suppose it was my fault for saying anything. I only planned to stay for a few minutes."

"So holding me hostage in a bathroom wasn't your plan?" Tony asked, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Are you not enjoying this Tony?" She asked, in the same tone.

"That depends. How long do we have to stay here?"

"No more than half an hour."

"You're not in any danger, are you?" Tony went back to the matter at hand, keeping his voice light, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

"It is doubtful." Not in _grave _danger, anyway.

"Who's tailing you?"

"A friend."

"Family friend?" Tony asked. Ziva spun her head toward him and he wondered where all the aggression was coming from.

"Maybe, I did not slap you hard enough." But Tony carried on, undeterred.

"But how do you know you haven't already blown it, with the scene you made back there?"

She didn't answer, perhaps she didn't know.

He looked at her, for the first time noticing her odd attire. Her hair was pulled back into a tight French braid and she was wearing makeup and floral print clothing. He liked the hair, although he never minded it when it was free or pulled back into a pony tail. He didn't know if it was due to three years in a foreign country or the fact that she was wearing a different identity.

"When did you get back?"

"Last night. I called you, but your phone was off."

They were quiet for a while, listening to the music bounce off the walls in a hollow way. Tony wished the bathroom was better ventilated.

"Senior kicked me out of the house. I'm staying with my cousin Larry." Tony stared at the water-stained wall.

Ziva was surprised at that, "What did you do?"

"I'm offended, why do you assume it's something I did?"

Ziva smiled, "Because I have known you for a long time." She remembered the fights Tony and his father would have, loud enough to alert the neighbors. How she left him sleep on her couch on weeks when Senior had women over. They would not talk for weeks.

"What happened?"

Tony was vague, "He was drunk and he said more than usual. We had words and he threw me out."

"Sorry."

"He will take me back in a few days. He doesn't like to eat dinner alone."

There was shuffling outside the door, which made Ziva tense up. Her hand hovered over her right hip. Tony wondered, briefly, what weapon was concealed there. She handed him a pocket knife from a hollow compartment in the heel of her boot. And they waited.

Someone knocked on the door and Tony, called out, "Occupied!"

"More, more." Ziva said, groaning, resuming the technique she had used earlier.

Tony played the role of a boyfriend having sexual intercourse, following Ziva's lead in making the scene believable to someone listening behind a door. Then they heard the footsteps retreating. Tony did realize that he was numb, until Ziva sat beside him, removing the knife from his lax grip. He had been in all kinds of trouble with Ziva, but never something like this.

"My father did not only send me to an Israeli high school to broaden my education. He wanted me to learn to culture, develop relationships and know the region. To gain experience."

"Why—?"

She ignored him, "After I graduate, I am joining the Israel Defense Forces."

Tony looked up, "I thought you had to be a citizen of Israel."

"You do. _And I am_." She said cautiously.

"You renounced your American citizenship?" He felt like a barrier had been erected.

"I had no choice, Tony. I have to serve my country."

"I thought this was your country."

"_It is_, as is Israel. And it has always been, regardless of what federal documents say" Ziva said, frustrated. "After IDF, I will join Mossad, an Israeli Intelligence agency. My father is Deputy Director."

"Is that who is following you?" It was all coming together. Years of secrets, mysterious meetings, martial arts classes and language lessons.

"If they are, it is a test." Ziva allowed. Her tone did not put him at ease.

She looked at her watch, "Five more minutes and you can go free."

But Tony wasn't thinking much about that anymore. At some point, their lives had started diverging in opposite directions. In the fall, he would attend college and Ziva would finish her last year of high school. Then she would leave the country…

He didn't know when they would see each other, but he wasn't about to let go. And, despite her choices, neither was she.

They would spend years of waiting to see Godot.

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A/N- References to Harry Potter and _Waiting for Godot_

Sorry if the quality is a bit lacking; writing about teens/romance isn't my forte.

I think this is the last one. The 5th scene needs revising and my family is moving in a few days (and I need to focus on that).

So, for now,** I am calling this complete**.

I hope you enjoyed these little snapshots and thanks for reading! :D

Feedback is appreciated!


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